Precious
by Draconic Caduceus
Summary: Armonie Zibetto sitting in a tree. Aiutio! Armonie Zibetto liked what she did in her home country of Italy, but everything got turned upside down after being rescued by a giant alien robot from outer space. But it's all good...right?
1. Perfect Life

**Note: I don't own Transformers, only Armonie Zibetto. :) **

**Full Summary: Armonie Zibetto sitting in a tree. A-i-u-ti-o! Armonie Zibetto liked what she did in Italy, but everything turned upside down when she was saved by a giant robot from outer space after getting herself stuck in a tree. But certain things come with a price, and soon Army finds herself dragged hither and yon with her savior. But it's all good…right?**

**Author's notes: Aiuto (by the Italian alphabet A-i-u-ti-o) means "help".**

**Unlike in "Friends", where Italian was in italics, this version English (or any other language besides Cybertronian) will be in italics; it's told from Armonie's perspective so naturally she wouldn't be speaking much English.**

**This is a story how Armonie met her guardian and how they came to America. :) Hope you like.**

--

"Give Mommy a kiss goodbye." Face alight, Antonio stood on tip-toes and pecked his mother on the cheek before giving a boyish laugh and running to his friends, stopping briefly to turn and wave to his mother inside the schoolyard.

"Come on, Mommy! Isabella's waiting for me." Romhild tugged impatiently on her mother's sleeve, pointing to the schoolyard across the street where her blonde friend waited near the gate.

"Okay, Romhild, honey. Let's go." Bending down, she kissed her daughter's forehead and walked with her across the street where she quickly pecked her mother on the cheek and raced off with her friend to the swing set.

"Ah, Armonie. Don't you remember the time when they were little ones that needed their padro and madre to chase away nightmares and monsters?"

Armonie chuckled. "My memory isn't bad like yours, Amalia. Besides. They still need us to do that. Now give Mommy a kiss and run off to work."

Amalia chuckled but obeyed, kissing her before walking down the street. He stopped at the corner to wave briefly before getting in the car and driving off. Armonie waved to him as he passed before setting off in the opposite direction to her own job. She watched as other parents took their kids to school, and nodded in greeting to those she knew.

She reached her destination and smiled as the familiar smell hit her. Unlocking the door, she closed it behind her and pulled her outer coat off, revealing her tan uniform. Picking up and filling the buckets by the door, she went to visit her charges.

"How are we feeling today?" she asked, dumping the bucket into the trough.

The little Mongolian pony she had nicknamed Sweetheart (despite his belligerent and ornery attitude) flattened his hears and gave her a chocolate-eyed glare. Armonie laughed and rubbed his forehead and nose, something she knew he liked despite his denial. She knew from her coworkers that she was the only one who Sweetheart tolerated, and found it sweet. Another of the ponies, Daffodil, whickered and butted the zookeeper before going over to eat.

"Well, that's good." Armonie said with a laugh. She scratched the thick, scraggly mane between Sweetheart's ears affectionately. "I'm afraid I'll have to go now. I'll visit later, I promise." Reaching into one of her uniform's many pockets she pulled out a small carrot which she gave to Sweetheart.

She walked out of the enclosure and continued her duties, greeting each of her charges and giving them little treats from her pockets. Whenever her boss saw her talking to the animals, he'd just shake his head and tease that she should just go and live with them in the wild if she cares more about the animals than the people.

That was always the way she spent the day at her job: carrying large buckets of feed to the animals and feeding them, avoiding crowds and people who would ask her 'oh, can my little son feed the elephants?' or 'excuse me but can you tell us where the restrooms are?' it irked her to no end, but that was part of her job and she was obligated to say 'no, I'm sorry ma'am but we're not allowed to have anyone who is not certified to feed our animals unless it's a specially trained animal in a show' or 'take this road to the giraffe enclosure and turn left until you reach the big building marked "outhouse".'

At one her shift ended and she left, heading over to the town nursing home.

Old Alphonso glared at her as she let herself into his room, sitting smoothly on the chair facing his wheelchair. "You're late." He growled, and Armonie glared back at him.

"You're so old that it takes half an hour for your wrinkled brain to process the pretty numbers you see on the clock." Was the retort.

"Back in my day, you younglings weren't nearly so ill-mannered!"

"Well in _my_ day, you old-as-dirt people aren't nearly so ornery."

Faded green eyes met dark brown in a staring contest that seemed to last an eternity. It was Alphonso who broke the silence, breaking out into a great big grin and laughing. "So. How is my little one?" he held out his arms in an invitation for a hug.

"I'm not your little one, old man." Armonie teased, moving to hug the frail man.

Alphonso laughed, patting her on the back with a wrinkled hand. "Tell me, Armonie. How are little Antonio and Romhild? I haven't heard from them in ages."

Armonie smiled, moving her chair to sit directly in front of the old man. "I just saw them off to their first day of school today." She gave a dramatic sigh. "They're growing up so fast!"

Alphonso laughed, patting her on the knee. "That I know, precious. When they're leaving for college or walking down the aisle, it will seem like just the other day you held them in your arms for the first time."

They made small talk like that for another hour where Armonie found herself pushing the elder around the gardens and talking some more. After a while, they bid their farewells to each other (both rather reluctantly) and parted ways, Alphonso to go with the nurses and Armonie to walk down the streets back to the schools.

Antonio came back to her first, bubbling with cheer at his first day of school, hopping around his patient mother as they crossed the street to pick up his sister Romhild who waited just as impatiently. Then, listening to her two kids prattle on about their days at school, she sat down at the bus stop.

-

"How was your day?" Armonie asked her husband over dinner, noting the weary way he held himself.

Amalia sighed. "I'm lucky I live up to my name." he told her wearily, before giving Romhild a look for not eating her vegetables. "The deadlines have been moved, so we have to work twice as hard as we were previously." He said wearily. "I feel as if I'm carrying the weight of the world on my shoulders." Armonie kissed him on the cheek as she picked up his plate to refill it.

"Let's hope something's good on the horizon." She told him, rubbing his shoulders as he began to eat again.

"Yes, let's hope." Amalia murmured, as tired and weary as she had ever heard her husband.


	2. Thing from the Sky

With a sigh, Armonie stepped into the kitchen ready to make a cup of tea when the house shook slightly. Frowning, she waited it out; it was by far too short to be an earthquake. Because it was Saturday, they all had they day off and were prone to sleeping in; only Armonie woke up early.

She walked quickly up the stairs, poking her head into Romhild's room. Amalia and Antonio were both heavy sleepers, so it was unlikely that they would even notice the small tremor. Romhild, however, was a light sleeper but thankfully not prone to having a large imagination.

Her brown-haired daughter was sitting up on her bed, looking out the window to her left at the grassy meadow and forests beyond. "Morning, Mama." She greeted in her usual dry way: like her mother, she wasn't much of a morning person, but she wasn't a grouch either. "Something fell from the sky out near the forest. Will the trees burn down?" she asked in genuine worry, but not for them: of the three adventurous ones of the family, she actually cared about her surroundings.

Armonie shook her head and kissed her daughter's forehead. "I don't think so, but I'm going to go check. If Padro wakes up before I get back, tell him what happened, okay?"

Honey-brown eyes wide with awe of her brave mother, Romhild nodded. Glad she was wearing jeans, Armonie left, walking quickly across the meadow and breaking into a light trot when she reached the cover of the trees.

It wasn't hard to find where the thing fell. Judging by the amount of splinters and shattered trees and branches (a few of which were smoking gently or tipped with a small cap of flame) it was a rather large object, and it landed not too far from where she stood.

Now she tread carefully, trying to see if the little fires would start a larger one as she came across the big crater. The fires were embers or close to it, so she didn't have to worry, but just to be careful, Armonie stomped out whatever she could while still gaping at the crater.

The crater was empty, but formed a long furrow in the cool, wet earth. Enormous trees had fallen haphazardly around the area, some uprooted as the thing skidded to a stop, or knocked silly as it fell.

Looking around, Armonie recognized the place and realized that she had gotten pretty far away from her house: she was about a mile away near a popular lookout for high school students to make out or whatever else high school students did there.

A rough voice growled something from behind her and startled, she whirled to find a large, burly man growling something else, leveling a rather large, formidable shotgun at her face and chest. She squinted slightly, straining to catch what he was saying. She only got three words out of the long ramble (mostly because it appeared that he was I'm-almost-dead drunk and he slurred a lot), but it was straightforward enough: _ours go away_.

As a multi-linguist, Armonie knew more than two languages: she was fluent in Italian (of course), German, and Spanish; she was close to being fluent in Gaelic and English after giving up on learning French. The drunkard waved his gun at her, obviously expecting to understand his mess of words and sounds.

A less-drunk and sober sounding voice echoed from a ways away, and not taking his eyes off Armonie, shouted something back to them that sounded something like "_Ge' o'er 'ere"_.

Armonie backed up slightly until she was backed into a pine, the lowest branch a little above her shoulder. The drunken man slurred something else at her, leaning suggestively toward her, gun pointed down and obviously thinking Armonie too scared or weak to punch his lights out.

Boy was he wrong.

A hard uppercut to the jaw, then a jab at his great gut and a hard kick to the groin was all it took to send him backwards on his back where he stopped to blink as if asking the universe '_why_ am I on my back?' Armonie took his gun and chucked it into the crater before leaping into the tree and climbing as high as she could as the drunkard's friends appeared through the bushes.

As high as she could go – without being afraid the branches would break – Armonie stopped, clinging to the trunk and peering cautiously down at the four bending over the downed drunkard who was (Armonie though) cursing wildly.

Another waved his shotgun up at the tree and in Armonie's general direction – perhaps arguing about her, she mused – roaring something at the man; she could hear the echoes of his yell as he turned to look up at her, squinting his eyes and shading them with his hand against the morning sun which happened to be right behind her.

He called something up in broken French, to which she responded by yelling insults down at them in Gaelic. The man, obviously not knowing Gaelic, thought then tried again, this time with even more broken (if that was at all possible) Spanish.

Another interrupted the atrociously-spoken Spanish with German. _"Do you speak German?"_

Armonie fell silent, thinking her answer over. "_Yes."_ She called back at last.

"_Come down,"_ he called in a false-friendly tone. _"That way we don't have to talk without having to shout."_

"_Fat chance. Your friend pointed a gun at me, and I bet you'd all like to shoot me if you get the chance."_ She snapped back.

"_We can just shoot you now if you like."_ Another called up in false earnestness. There was a loud _bam!_ and with a startled shriek, Armonie clutched the tree as it shook and fought to stop the ringing in her ears. The birds nearby leapt into the air with startled shrieks as the shot echoed through the forest, becoming softer and softer as it passed. The tree stopped shaking and Armonie glared down at the three Americans – who _else_ would be stupid enough to do that? – as they guffawed at her.

Growling, she shouted down more insults (still in Gaelic) down at them. She was about to begin again in Italian (which they apparently didn't understand) when she felt the tree give the tiniest of shakes. Mouth open to deliver another scalding rant of insults and curses, she felt the tree shake again, marginally stronger than the last one. Slowly, she closed her mouth and looked around with wide eyes.

A third shake came, and the trees around her rattled along with hers. It was like footsteps, she realized, watching as a fourth one came. Pressing her eyes shut and her forehead to the rough bark of the three, Armonie sighed. It was just her day: she was either going to be shot or eaten by whatever made those enormous footsteps.

After a while the steps slowed to a stop, and the group of men below stopped laughing, talking amongst themselves in English about what to do with her. From what Armonie could gather, they had been camping (illegally) a few minutes away and heard the meteor (or whatever it was) crash. Evidently thinking they could sell it and get loads of money, they threatened anyone who came to the site (meaning Armonie).

Unfortunately, two were absolutely cratered, one of them knocked out where he fell after Armonie kicked him, and the other leaning against her tree for support. That left three other less-drunk Americans with guns. The other trees were too far for her to jump, and she was too high to get down and start running. That left her trapped up there until she got help – which was unlikely.

That was, until she noticed the flash of bright scarlet in front of her, close but not visible or obvious to the drunkards. Turning, she gaped as the enormous shape whose armored head was level with hers. As it stepped out into the open, not a sound was made, and Armonie realized that it must have made those enormous footsteps though it was being quiet not.

The drunken idiots caught sight of it and yelled in surprise, frozen in fear. Then the giant robot did something Armonie didn't expect; it spread its legs and bent into a crouch, fingers spread and bent into claws. Metallic "lips" peeled back to reveal sharp "teeth" which it bared. Blue lights shone through its eyes, zeroing in on the group of men. It opened its mouth and Armonie nearly fell from the tree at the great, thunderous growl that emanated from the robot thing. Screaming, the men turned and ran, tripping over themselves and their guns as well as rocks, roots, and branches in their way.

Armonie sucked in a breath as with a chuckle, the scarlet being straightened and looked at her calmly. The "lips" had covered those formidable "teeth", but it still looked scary to her. But now that she thought about it, it didn't seem all that bad: it wasn't killing her, at least.

Mouth moving accordingly, the giant robot asked, _"German?"_

Armonie frowned slightly. _"Yes."_

"_Ah. Now, tell me, if you please. Why didn't you run away with them?"_ the robot's voice was warm and gentle but obviously male, and Armonie found herself staring in awe at how human it's – his? – voice sounded.

"_I figured it's no use: if you wanted to hurt me, you'd catch up to me anyway. Besides. In case you haven't noticed, this tree's rather large, and it'll be hard to get down." _Armonie found herself explaining. Blinking, she looked down at the ground at least twenty feet down, she shuddered, imagining the horrible things that could happen to her if she slipped.

"_Then allow me to assist you."_ she could hear the smile in his voice as he walked over, lifting a hand so she could scoot nervously on. Slowly, he bent and put her on the ground. _"Now will you run?"_

Armonie frowned up at him. _"Not unless you want me to."_ She grumbled back. She locked at her watch and gasped. _"I gotta get back home. Amalia's probably up by now and worrying." _Casting a last glance at him, she ran, but not because she was afraid.

She jumped when she heard the sound of an engine growling – much like the robot had – behind her. A scarlet Ferrari pulled up beside her and flicked open the door. Looking in, she found it was empty. _"Get in. I'll take you there." _After a brief moment of hesitation, she stepped in_. "So. What's your name, girlie?"_

Armonie scowled at the steering wheel which rotated gently in front of her. _"Armonie. What about you, Mr. Giant Robot?"_

He laughed as her house came into view. _"Me? My name's Hot Rod. Nice to meet you, Armonie. Here's your stop."_

The door opened and Armonie hesitated. _"Thank you."_ she said at last, stepping out and walking into the house. She didn't stay to see if he left.


	3. Storytelling

She opened the door and was immediately pulled into a tight hug by Amalia. "Lord, Army! I was afraid you'd gotten hurt. How'd you get so dirty?"

Thinking back to her giant robot savior and who he saved her from, she decided she didn't want to worry him. "I climbed a few trees on my way for the heck of it." Amalia raised an eyebrow but didn't comment. "The forest won't burn down." She assured Romhild who had come down the stairs when she heard her mother was home.

Smiling, she ran back upstairs. Armonie rubbed an eye, yawning. Amalia nodded, still hugging her. "I'll take care of breakfast. You go upstairs and take a shower and a nap. You need it."

With a bark of laughter, she threw a mock punch at his side which he dodged, spinning into the kitchen while Armonie chuckled tiredly. "Don't burn down the house, now." She called back at him as she wearily climbed the stairs.

-

On Sunday, Armonie was once more the first one to wake up. She walked into the kitchen and made a cup of steaming, hot tea and content, went to sit out on the front porch and enjoy the morning before making breakfast. Cradling her mug, she opened the screen door and walked outside.

And nearly dropped her mug, for sitting in the driveway in full view of the screen door was a bright scarlet Ferrari.

As the speechless Armonie stared, the front wheels turned on their own to "face" her and the headlights flicked in greeting. "Mornin'." He called in Italian, seeming perfectly content to watch her gape at him. "Somethin' wrong?"

"What are you doing here?" she hissed, finally remembering that she was standing there staring.

"Well, for one, I'm thinking." She scowled at him. "And, I'm hiding."

That got her interest, however reluctant it was. She sighed wearily and sat down on the porch, sipping her tea. "Okay, you got my attention. Who are you hiding from?"

"Well, I'm what you would call an autonomous robot – Autobot for short – from the planet Cybertron."

"So you're an alien?" Armonie interrupted. Hot Rod rumbled his engine and she fell silent.

"Yes, I'm an 'alien'." He said impatiently. Armonie stuck her tongue out at him but fell silent. "We autonomous robots – Autobots for short – are part of a species called Cybertronians of the planet Cybertron, along with the Decepticons. Autobots and Decepticons are factions in a brutal civil war that spread across Cybertron and threatened us and our entire world."

He paused, obviously waiting for Armonie to interrupt. She merely raised a black brow at him.

"Well, the Decepticons are the bad guys and we're the good guys. The Decepticons were led by a freaky bugger called Megatron, and the Autobots are led by Optimus Prime." Armonie continued to sip her tea. "We were fighting over something called the AllSpark – a cube that could give life or take it away. Megatron wanted to make an army with its power that could rule the universe. According to reports I received a little while ago, the Allspark was destroyed and the rest of the Autobots are pretty much across the earth from me."

Armonie sipped her tea, looking at the scarlet Ferrari parked in front of her, thinking. "Is your war over?"

Hot Rod was silent for a moment. "No, the war is not over: to this day the Autobots and Decepticons are still fighting even though the Allspark is destroyed."

"How do you feel about it? The war, I mean."

The Autobot had fallen silent. "I've never had anyone ask me that before." He said quietly. "Usually it's just 'Hey, Roddy, how do ya feel about this plan?' or 'Hey, what do you think about this?' Never my opinion of the war." He chuckled slightly. "You sound like a psychiatrist."

Armonie smirked slightly. "That's because I know how you feel. My father was a fighter pilot and used to fight in whatever fights there were in his time. I didn't realize that war was that brutal until after he died last year."

Hot Rod was surprised by the matter-of-fact tone she used when telling him of her father's death. All the research he did suggested that humans – especially young female ones like Armonie – were prone to be emotional, particularly when a loved one dies. "I'm sorry."

Armonie scowled at him. "I've heard enough of that, Hot Rod. Besides. I'm sure you've lost more friends than I have to war."

She seemed as if she was over his loss, judging by the calm way she sipped her tea. "Tell me about him? He sounds like a good man."

Armonie smiled, a sort of dreamy look in her dark eyes. "He was the best father a girl could hope for." Pausing, she looked back in memories only she could see. "He was the pilot of a fighter jet – one of the best in the force. He was known for his easy-going nature, and a lot of people said that it was amazing that such a kind man could be a fighter pilot. Everyone liked Amoux. He never snapped at his crew or walked around with that cocky swagger new pilots had, or the older-and-wiser-than-thou walk veteran pilots had."

"He sounds nice. Like Optimus Prime, my leader. He's the best leader a 'bot could hope for." Hot Rod sighed with Armonie. "How did he die, if you don't mind me asking?"

Armonie sighed again, looking into her now-empty cup. "Well, as I said it was about a year ago (I don't know the exact day) and he and his squadron were doing some practice runs close to Sicily. He reported in that they spotted some unidentified jets in front of them on radar. The tried to hail them on the radio but they didn't respond. Later they reported that it was a 'Sikorsky MH53 Pave Low III' helicopter and an American-modeled F-22 Raptor. The MH53 and Raptor wouldn't respond, and they weren't technically over Italian airspace, so they couldn't do anything. As they were turning around for another look at the unidentified craft, they were attacked. No one survived."

"What?" Armonie looked up at the surprised yelp coming from the Ferrari.

"I have the report if you want to go over it," she said, startled.

"No, no. It's just that Optimus reported that there were two Decepticons of that description. One was killed and the other is MIA, as you would say."

Suddenly, Armonie's eyes became hard circles of onyx, lips peeling back in a fierce grimace not directed at Hot Rod or anyone in particular – except for the MIA F-22 Raptor. Almost as suddenly as it appeared, it disappeared as voices drifted in front the kitchen. With a last nod at Hot Rod, she walked inside.

As she made breakfast for her family, her thoughts were filled with the Raptor that killed her father and his squadron. When she found herself plotting revenge, she stopped herself; she had her family to think about, and besides. What's done is done, and she wouldn't stand a chance against them anyway.

-

"Army, why is there a Ferrari parked in our driveway?" Amalia asked idly, sipping his coffee and looking out the window. Armonie almost dropped then knife, having forgotten about Hot Rod, but thankfully no one but she noticed.

"Well, my friend gave it to me. He said he was gonna get a new car and didn't like the Ferrari." She lied quickly, giving what she hoped was a reassuring smile at her husband.

"Okay." He said, not really paying attention anyway. "I'll go wake up the kids." Yawning, he walked up the stairs and out of Armonie's sight.

Sighing, she went back to cutting sausage and cheese for breakfast. Opening the cupboard, she appraised the contents that were running low and wrote them down before going back to looking for what she had been aiming to get. By the time Romhild, Antonio, and Amalia came down, breakfast was out and ready.

"I have to run to the store today." Armonie told them, eating quickly. "I'll be back soon, but while I'm gone, please don't blow up the house."

Romhild rolled her eyes and Antonio giggled. "Don't worry, Army." Amalia chuckled. "We'll go visit Alphonso since he was asking about the kids."

"That sounds good." Armonie agreed cheerfully. Finishing, she washed the dishes and grabbing her purse, left after kissing her husband and kids goodbye.

"Going somewhere?" Hot Rod asked as she came out, rolling over eagerly.

Armonie pulled her foot out of the way of his front tire. "Yeah, I'm going to the grocery store today."

"Wanna ride?" the door popped open invitingly and after a moment of hesitation, she stepped in.

-

Blood red optics glowed from the gloom of the forest, watching as first the bright scarlet Ferrari – _Autobot!_ – drove away with the human flesh creature, then the beat up old junker with the fleshling's mate and offspring.

The owner of the optics hunkered down, glad his dark color scheme helped him to blend in with the trees. Soon the fleshlings and the Autobot were gone and it was safe for Vortex to emerge from hiding to look around.

'_**Vortex to Onslaught,'**_

'_**Onslaught here. What do you want, Vortex?'**_

'_**I found the Autobot. He's already been adopted by a fleshy family.'**_

'_**Good. Maintain surveillance.'**_ The Combaticon leader said at last. _**'If we're lucky, we'll be able to use them as bartering chips. Or we could destroy them all at once. It all depends on what information we have.'**_

'_**Yes sir.'**_ Smirking to himself, Vortex backed once more into the cover of the trees to await the return of the Autobot and his flesh bag pets.

-

For a whole week, Armonie was on edge. Hot Rod was gracious (or bored) enough to take her to work, then to see old Alphonso, then pick up Romhild and Antonio and make it home in time to make dinner.

It wasn't that she was anxious about any tangible thing; far from it, exactly. Money was fine, they were well-stocked and though summer was winding down into fall, everything was okay save for the persistent bite in the air.

It was just a sort of instinct that set her on edge; whenever she was outside and not doing anything in particular, she found herself staring off into the trees. On occasion she thought she saw something rustling around in the brush, but brushed it off as her imagination.

Only it wasn't. Oh, how it wasn't.

-

Laughing, Armonie listened as Hot Rod regaled a rather comical stunt he had pulled on the Security Director of Cybertron, an old mech named Kup. What she liked most was his impressions of the grizzled gray warrior, and that usually caused her to laugh no matter how gloomy she felt.

But today, not even such impressions could cheer her.


	4. Unwelcoming Sight

**Warning: _Lots_ of gore and blood. Not for the faint of heart, I guess.**

* * *

Hot Rod sensed it before Armonie saw it and slammed hard on the brakes, ignoring the indignant honks of the other motorists behind him. Armonie yelped as her forehead connected hard with Hot Rod's steering wheel, swaying dizzily for a few seconds before glaring at him. 

"What the hell was that for?" she demanded, rubbing her forehead.

When he answered, he sounded as haunted as she had ever heard him. "You…you don't want to go home."

Armonie growled. "Damn it Roddy, Romhild and Antonio's sick, and Amalia has to go to work! I need to get back to them."

Slowly, Hot Rod edged off the main road to the long path that led to her house. There, he seemed to droop down on his tires as if reluctant to go on. "No, Armonie, you don't."

Any retort Armonie was about to make was interrupted as the bone-jarring _thok-thok-thok_ of a helicopter. She tilted her head and looked up and out the window to find a dark gray-purple helicopter flew overhead, circling once before leaving. Armonie was about to look away and disregard it when a sudden chill shook her body.

There, emblazoned boldly beneath the chopper as well as on the tail near the rotor was a small symbol, but even from this distance, Armonie could tell that it wasn't red like Hot Rod's.

That meant that it was a Decepticon.

Before Hot Rod could react, mothering instincts kicked in and she shoved him into gear, flooring the gas pedal and sending them speeding down the dirt road. By the time Hot Rod wrestled control back, they were halfway to her house. With a sigh, Hot Rod continued on.

Eyes large and limbs shaking, Armonie stepped out of Hot Rod as he pulled up in front of her house. Which was hardly there anymore.

The former two-story house was now little more than rubble covering the cellar. Pipes and great planks of wood lay in haphazard piles, jutting out here and there in burnt, splintery knives.

Her heart beat normally; it wasn't too fast, not too slow, but it seemed to send waves of ice through her veins, chilling her to the bone. The ice seemed to gather at her heart which felt as if it were about to shatter into a million pieces at the slightest movement.

The roof appeared to have been torn from the top of the original structure, broken into a dozen pieces and scattered across the meadow. Armonie assumed whoever did this had been Decepticons and that they had thrown the pieces of roof around.

Step by shuffling, numb step, Armonie approached her house. It had belonged to Amoux, her father and his family for generations along with the land. The structure was sound and still original, but now it was no more.

Her pulse pounded in her ears as her icy heart seemed to shudder (or was it just her?) as she stepped forward. With each step a piece of splinter or glass crunched beneath her boots, and with each crunch, a tiny piece of her heart shattered into the black void of oblivion.

Numbly and in the back of her mind she was aware that Hot Rod was saying something, but she couldn't hear it through the beat of her shattering heart. Slowly, carefully, she stepped up the half-intact steps of the veranda, through the gaping hole of a doorway, and into the house itself.

As she walked through the rooms, a knot in her gut twisted, and with each twist a larger portion of her heart shattered.

Just that morning she had been in the kitchen – where she now stood – thinking about her day and what she'd do while she made a warm broth for Antonio and Romhild. Here, she had eaten breakfast with Amalia before kissing him good-bye and going with Hot Rod to get some supplies and medicine at the town nearby.

The stairs were half intact with large chunks missing, and other bits inaccessible as the walls on either side had collapsed partially on it. Here, she had climbed the stairs to say good-bye to her children before leaving.

A sound caught her ear, and hope caused her to sway dizzily. Shaking and stumbling, she ran into the living room. At the sight that greeted her, she nearly fainted, but reminded herself that she needed to be strong, if only for Amalia.

Her husband lay in the middle of the room amongst shattered and destroyed furniture, lying uncomfortably on shards of wood the size of Armonie's forearm. He was gasping and pale with a large red stain beneath him, coloring the splinters a grotesque red. Five splinters as long as the ones on the ground around him impaled him and pinned him to the ground, all concentrated on his abdomen.

With a choked sob, Armonie ran over and knelt beside him, grabbing his hand and ignoring the uncomfortable pricks of the splinters in her knees, and the eerie feeling of her husband's blood staining her skirt.

Amalia's hand was cold and clammy, his skin an unnaturally pale due to blood loss. His beautiful blue-green eyes blazed against his paper-white skin and his mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water. "A-a-arm-y-y."

"Amalia." Now she began to cry, long, silent tears that streaked down her face like a waterfall to drip into the blood on the floor.

Amalia's mouth twitched into a slight smile despite convulsing, eyes wide in pain. Armonie clung to his hand, pressing it against her cheek as if willing him to live.

"B-e-e s-s sa-f-f-e." he stuttered out. "L-lov-ve you."

"I love you too, Amalia." Armonie whispered, her throat closing on the last word, the name of her soon-to-be-dead husband. Neither of them saw the sense in pretending that he was going to die; they knew it as well as they knew their own names.

Blue-green eyes met dark brown for a moment before the first pair went dim. Still crying, Armonie leaned over her dead husband's face, gently kissing his forehead. "Sleep well, Amalia." She whispered, closing his gaping eyes with a shaking hand. "I'll see you again sometime."

Sniffing, she knelt there for a little while longer before standing to look for her children. The ground shook slightly as if Hot Rod had jumped or fell, and Armonie looked out and saw him talking with a few others of his kind, all of them with bright red symbols emblazoned on their chests and shoulders.

Wiping her face and not noticing the streak of blood she left, she slowly climbed the stairs and found gaping holes and missing walls in Romhild and Antonio's rooms, and the rest was gone or in a splintered mess.

"Mama?" slowly, she turned and found Romhild propped up against the wall, pinned as Amalia had by long splinters. One had gone through her torso, and little Antonio's head lay in her lap, a hand-sized splinter protruding from one eye. "They're gone." She whispered, a tear streaming down her face. "The-they wanted to know 'bo-bout some-me-one ca-ca-lled Ho-ho-"

"Hot Rod." Armonie whispered and whimpering, Romhild nodded.

"D-de-cepticons."

"They called each other that?" honey-colored eyes welling up with tears, Romhild nodded.

"Am I gonna die?" she whispered.

"I don't want to lie to you." Armonie told her quietly, crouching in front of her and resting a hand on her cheek. "You will. Go to sleep love and say hi to your father and brother for me."

Romhild shook her head. "I don' wan-n-na go."

Armonie kissed her forehead lightly. "I know, sweet. I don't want you to go either, but we can't always get what we want."

"Stay with me, mommy?" her eyes were becoming brighter as if feverish, and Armonie knew her time was near.

"As long as I can, sweetie." Her voice cracked, and Romhild lifted a shaky hand and brushed away a tear.

"Hot Rod is good. Stay with him, and you will find happiness and completeness." She told her mother in an eerie answer to the questions she was asking herself. "Please, Mommy. I'm scared. Sing to me?"

"Of course, sweetie." It took a few tries to get her throat to work, and when it did, she sang the first song that came to mind, even though it was in English.

"_You are my sunshine, my only sunshine.  
__You make me happy when skies are gray.  
__You'll never know dear, how much I love you  
__Please don't take my sunshine away."_

Romhild smiled shakily. "Thanks, Mommy."

"You're welcome, sweet." Shaking, Armonie kissed her daughter for the last time. "Sleep, sweetie. I'll see you again one day."

"Promise?"

Her smile wavered. "I promise, sweetie. Cross my heart and hope to die."

Romhild's eyes drooped. "Thanks, Mommy. I love you."

"I love you too." Before she was half-way through the second syllable, Romhild was gone.

-

"**I feel bad, Hot Spot. I should've told her the dangers."** Hot Rod rubbed his forehead, and the blue fire truck placed a soothing hand on his shoulder.

"**We all make mistakes, Hot Rod. Don't worry about it; she'll forgive you eventually. When she comes out, explain it all to her."**

Hot Rod sighed, sitting down with a resounding _thump_. **"She'll be angry at me."**

First Aid crouched beside him. "**What would make her not mad at you?"**

Hot Rod gave a bark of derisive laughter. "**Her family still alive."** He hung his head. **"She **_**does**_** like to travel. I may be able to get her with that, but I doubt it. She likes to have a purpose."**

"**What about hunting?" **Streetwise asked, and immediately, Hot Rod's head jerked to look up at him.

"**She'll want revenge."** He whispered as Armonie came stomping out. Looking over at her, he saw the hard edge to her eyes, and the blood covering her skirt and shirt. _"Get ready and we'll go hunting after them."_ Cold triumph glittered in her suddenly onyx-like eyes.

"**What did you tell her?"** Groove asked, having not understood the words in Gaelic.

"**We're going after them."** Hot Rod said as Armonie came back a little while later, dressed in jeans with a small bag of clothes slung over her shoulder. Over another shoulder was a slightly larger bag that clinked with every step. In her arms, she carried two long, narrow black plastic cases. **"Are you coming with us?"** He asked, standing and looking at the other Protectobots.

At last, Hot Spot nodded. **"You'll need all the help you can get,"** he said at last. **"No offense."**

Hot Rod smiled, baring sharp "teeth". **"None taken."** He nodded at Armonie and transformed, allowing her to pack her stuff in his trunk and back seat. "Let's go." He called and in a single-file line, all of them left the smoking ruins of the house and the remains of its occupants behind, driving after its destroyers for vengeance.

And they planned on getting it.

* * *

**The song Armonie sang to her daughter was a song my mother used to sing to me whenever I had a nightmare or when I was sick. :)**

**((yawns)) well, off to bed with me. :)**


	5. Why to not mess with a girl and her guns

Armonie was tired, but too wired up to sleep. Her eyelids felt heavy but she knew if she tried to go to sleep, she'd be haunted by the battered, bloody faces of Amalia, Romhild, and Antonio.

So wearily, she climbed into the backseat, plopping herself down amongst her gear. Tugging a cleaning cloth from her father's old uniform, she opened the first plastic case, pulling out her favorite rifle.

Though she looked like the sort of lady who wouldn't dare touch a gun with a fifty-foot stick even if she was paid a million dollars, she was on the contrary, a decent shot. Against her mother's wishes, Amoux her father had taken her shooting at the military range when she was seven, teaching her first with bow and arrow then with actual guns.

Despite being the nicest fighter pilot there was, Amoux shared his love of watching things explode and burn with his daughter – which was why they both loved sabot rounds. For her eighteenth birthday, Amoux had gotten his daughter a gun specially made for firing the sabot rounds he had bought for her, stored in the same pack she carried with her now.

With the polishing cloth she cleaned the dust off her rifle – after all, with two kids and a husband she couldn't well go shooting as often as she used to, now could she?

Hot Rod was silent, leaving her to brood and not even turning on the radio. The only sounds that Armonie could hear were the sound of his engine, the rasp of his tires on the asphalt, and the occasional honk of a horn or burst of soft static coming from his radio.

"Why didn't you tell me?" she whispered, and she felt the scarlet Ferrari give a quick jerk in surprise as she meticulously cleaned the barrel of the rifle.

"Tell you what?" Hot Rod asked back.

Armonie dabbed at her eyes even though no tears falling, then rubbed her nose. "That there was a danger to my family."

Hot Rod was quiet. "It was a mistake on my part, I'm afraid. I thought the battles on Earth were finished and all the Decepticons were gone. I'm so very sorry."

Armonie was silent for a long moment, and Hot Rod was afraid that she was angry at him. Then he felt her put the rifle away and take out the next one, but that was hardly a reassuring motion.

At last, she sighed, still cleaning her gun. "It's not your fault. It was the Decepticons'." Silence reined for a while before she spoke again. "Who's your friends?" she asked, jerking her head at the convoy of vehicles behind them.

"Old comrades the Protectobots. Hot Spot's the one in the back – the blue fire engine. Just in front of him is First Aid the ambulance then Groove the motorcycle, Streetwise the police car, and Blades the rescue helicopter above us." Hot Rod said, glad to be off the sensitive subject of battles, war, and death.

"Nice to meet you, Armonie." An unfamiliar voice said over his radio, and she realized that he must have been talking to them earlier but hadn't turned it off when she spoke up.

"We only wish it was under better circumstances." A second said kindly.

Armonie sighed. "Yeah. That would be nice, but we don't always get the nice things, do we?"

Hot Rod groaned. "Oh, don't go all philosophical on me, Army!"

"That's all I have right now." She murmured. "I don't have any tears left in me, and I can't sleep or I'll dream of them. If I stay awake and do nothing I'll be haunted by them and the blood everywhere. If I keep cleaning my gun, I'll be tempted to unload a round into my skull."

Silence, not that she expected anything else. Hands shaking slightly, she forced herself to fold the cloth and put it back in her pocket, then gently put the rifle back into its case. Next she busied herself loading magazines with the special rounds until all were filled. Carefully, she packed the magazines away in a different compartment from the boxes of bullets and rounds.

"Please don't, Army." Hot Rod said at last and she snorted.

"I wouldn't." she told him flatly. "If I ever die, it will be long after I've gotten my revenge on those bastards and it will either be of battle wounds or old age." After a moment, one of the Protectobots (Armonie imagined him to be First Aid) spoke up.

"You say you cannot sleep because of nightmares?" Armonie raised an eyebrow though he couldn't see it.

"I said that earlier, didn't I?" she grumbled half-heartedly.

"Why don't you tell us about yourself?"

"I suppose it can't hurt." She murmured more to herself than her listeners. "My name is Armonie Zibetto and I'm thirty years old. I have – had – a husband named Amalia and two kids Romhild age nine and Antonio age six."

"They were so young, and so are you." Who she imagined Hot Spot to be murmured. "You shouldn't have gone through this."

Armonie laughed bitterly. "Well I did, and I can't change that fact now, can I? Anything else you want to know?"

"What about your kids? What were they like?" Armonie had grabbed a sabot round and was eyeing it speculatively when one of the other Protectobots spoke up.

She twirled the round in her hand. "Romhild – she was the sweetest girl a mother could hope for. She was always happy, but she was forever having nightmares about something or another." At that, she laughed bitterly. "At one point in time the day after I met Hot Rod she came downstairs early one morning and told me to save up on bullets and sabot rounds." She eyed the round in her hand. "I thought it was only a dream; I had only told Amalia about my rifles in the basement and there was no way Romhild or Antonio could've gotten down there."

"So?"

"So what?"

"Did you save up?" Armonie snorted.

"Amoux – my father – he used to get me a lot of sabots and armor-piercing bullets 'cause he knew that I liked them." she said with a shrug. "When I married I used to take Amalia once in a while but once I was pregnant with Romhild I packed them away. Amoux used to send more and more to me each year even though he knew I gave up on them."

"So how many do you have?"

'_What an effective way to keep me from brooding,'_ she thought wryly but answered the query. "I'm not sure, but I filled at least twenty automatic magazines with sabots and fifteen with manual. And that's not counting the loose rounds I have in my bag."

Hot Rod voiced a sound that was similar to a whistle. "Whoa. Even the ones in the mags are more than three hundred!"

Armonie smiled, though it lacked its usual cheer. "I like weapons." She admitted. "Amoux liked 'em too so he sent me full cases whenever he could."

"Remind me to not get on your bad side." One of the other Protectobots (she wasn't sure which and couldn't hazard a guess) muttered, causing everyone else to laugh, lightening the somber mood a bit.

"Hey, Roddy? Can you stop for a moment. I need to stretch my legs a bit." The only response she got was the turning of his front wheel to slide gently off the street and into an abandoned clearing far from the main road so the Autobots could transform. Armonie climbed out and pulled her gear out after her, allowing Hot Rod to transform and stretch. The vehicle Protectobots transformed and watched uneasily as she opened the first case holding her rifle.

Silently and shifting slightly, they watched as she pulled out a magazine and loaded it expertly into the clip. With a smirk she stood, hefting the rifle in one hand and looking at the circle of five giant robots. Blades was circling downward, but couldn't hear their conversation with the human. "So. Who wants to be my target?"

Five pairs of aquamarine optics widened and just as suddenly, the five of them on the ground were gone, leaving one left as he landed and transformed.

Poor Blades. He didn't stand a chance.

-

Later, Armonie would hear reports about some sort of strange beast roaming around through the forest, howling like a banshee. Naturally over the racket they could never have heard the hysterical laughs of Blades' comrades or the muffled '_bam_!'s of the armor-piercing-loaded rifle.

Of course First Aid didn't join in the laughter at first, but stopped when he realized that the trigger-happy human was aiming for thing slabs of armor that weren't covering vital areas. After that he had to find amusement in that, especially when Armonie revealed another concealed weapon. A paintball gun.

So as they drove into the next town, the locals gave the blue fire truck, scarlet Ferrari, police cruiser, motorcycle, and ambulance all of which were covered in splatters and speckles of blue, gold, red, and neon green spots odd looks.

Even though the mood of the convoy had risen, it wasn't close to cheerful, yet it was rather far away from the morbid silence that had haunted them before. Joking around with each other but not forgetting their cause, they sped off after the convoy of Decepticons.

* * *

**:) Because I love riflery and archery. ;)**

**I'm not too sure on the amount of bullets that can fit in the magazines, as I haven't been to the range in a while and even there the max number of bullets allowed in the magazine at one time is five. I think my dad told me how many there were supposed to be, but I'm not sure. Also, the only experience in shooting is with my compound bow, .10 millimeter (I think), and a manual-loading (I think that's what it's called) rifle. Never tried an air rifle come to think of it. Even though my dad gave me one for Christmas. ;P**

**Point is, I'm not sure if some of the information is correct. **


	6. Brawl: Big Boom

Little by little they gained on the Combaticons, drawing nearer and nearer. As they chased down the Decepticons, they passed more than a few small towns that had been struck by "driverless vehicles", or so the locals told Armonie when she stopped to ask.

"They've been here recently." Armonie looked at Hot Rod's steering wheel as he drove.

"You think so?" she asked, peering out the windows at the decimated buildings.

He gave a sort of chuckle. "The buildings are still smoking."

"Oh." Now that it was pointed out to her, she noticed. "Pull over here." She ordered briskly and surprised, Hot Rod obeyed. "I'll only be a few minutes." She promised him, running into the old building.

True to her word, she returned a little while later, a large duffle bag slung over her shoulder. She slid into the back seat and they were off once more.

It took a few minutes, but Hot Rod finally got the nerve to ask her what was in the bags. To which, she smiled and pulled out what looked like a large coil of black wire, a large box looking a lot like a rather large battery, a few long socks, a handful of what looked like long candle wicks, a closed coffee can, and a large bunch of little, smaller "batteries".

"Stuff to help us against the Decepti-bastards." She said smugly. "I have some det. cord, the charge for the cord, socks, fuses, axle grease, and small charges."

_"No offense, Armonie, but I don't get how socks and axle grease can help us."_ Hot Spot said gently and Armonie smirked.

"There's a movie – an American movie – called '_Saving Private Ryan_'. I'm rather fond of it, and I got the idea from them." she smiled and shrugged ruefully. "Anyway, Roddy said that one of the Combaticons is a tank, correct?" she didn't wait for an affirmative, but plunged on. "In the movie, a group of about ten to twelve men went up against four tanks and a bunch of infantry in a suicidal mission to keep the Germans from taking the bridge they were protecting. One of the captains suggested using 'sticky bombs' against the tanks."

_"What are 'sticky bombs'?"_ Blades asked from high above.

"Fill a sock with as many charges it can carry, put a small fuse in then tie it shut and coat it with axle grease. When a tank comes by, toss it on and it'll stick." She explained, packing the socks as she did so. "If we pick them off one by one, it'll be easier, and they can't combine." She pointed out.

There was silence for a moment. _"Now I'm even _more_ scared of you."_ Groove muttered, and Armonie chuckled.

_"The only problem would have to be getting it on him."_ Streetwise pointed out.

"No problem." Armonie said. "Track Brawl until we catch up to him when he stops for the night. Then I'll go in with the sticky bombs and some of the det. cord. No squishy like me could possibly hope to hurt big ol' _Brawl._" She said in mock innocence, so much so that Hot Rod bit back a chuckle. "I'll toss some sticky bombs on his underside, a few into his turret, then wrap some det. cord around him. I'll detonate the cord and that should light the sticky bombs."

"And if he fires his cannon it'll blow." Armonie heard the smile in Hot Rod's voice as he made the conclusion.

"Precisely. But first, we have to catch up."

-

Brawl was tired, and his fellow Combaticons were further ahead, not wanting to be limited to his 45 mile per hour crawl when they could easily go and terrorize other towns in the area; Brawl would attack when the stupid humans thought it was finally safe.

_Stupid things, humans_. He thought with disgust, clattering upward on the road. _Messy, squishy, weak, and pathetic. Not to mention they spilled a lot more fluids than Cybertronians did._

Grumbling to himself, he crested the hill and looked around, turning his turret around experimentally. No grit stuck in there yet, and he was grateful.

Vortex thundered by overhead and Brawl grumbled to himself. Stupid helicopter. _**"I'm stopping for the night."**_ He announced and growling, Vortex banked away.

"_**Catch up with us tomorrow and let us know if you see any Autobots." **_Onslaught replied and grumbling, he offlined in the shade of a large tree.

A few Earth hours into his cycle, he was jolted awake as a twig cracked somewhere to his left, in the forest. It was only a stupid human. It emerged from the trees, carrying a dirty carrying sack.

"A tank?" she – at least, he _thought_ it was female – asked, looking over at him. "Cool."

He held rigidly still as she climbed over him. He growled when she dropped rocks into his turret to listen to them clink and clank downwards. She pulled out black rope and uncoiled it, walking in a circle around him and placing the cord over and at the bottom of his treads. To keep the cord weighted down, she pulled out some large balls of smelly black putty from her bag and pressed it down gently.

"Happy holidays." Whether she was speaking to him or to herself he wasn't sure, but then again, he really didn't care. Trailing the peculiar black cord, she walked back out into the trees.

Automatically, he ran some scans – he was stupid to have not done that when she was walking all over him. He froze. Slag.

From the forest where the strange black cord trailed, he heard a sharp snap, and then the cord along his treads exploded, and the black "putty" proceeded to practically blow his treads off. Unnoticed, she had trailed a line of something which he suspected to be something flammable, for before he could transform, the fire traveled up his barrel and then _into_ it, hitting the "rocks".

But oh, they weren't rocks, he found once the fire touched them. They were charges, and once the fire touched them, they exploded.

-

Armonie giggled, seeing the great plume of smoke going up from the clearing. "Big boom." She cried, clapping her hands with a malicious gleam in her dark eyes.

"Groove was right. You _are_ scary." First Aid murmured, and Armonie turned to smile at him.

"Gee, thanks, Dottore." He rolled his optics at the new nickname, but said nothing as the rest of the Protectobots and Hot Rod came back. They had gone to make sure Brawl was gone for good.

"Who's next, and what else do you have up your sleeves?" Hot Rod asked, a great grin spreading across his face.

Armonie felt another smirk coming up, and Groove shuddered. "_La belle dame sans merci_." He muttered to the other Protectobots who laughed and nodded in agreement.

Armonie snorted, and reached into her bag, pulling out another sticky bomb. "Don't make me use this on you, buddy." She mock threatened, causing the others to laugh while Groove hid behind Hot Spot.

* * *

**:) Because I like big booms and movies with big booms in them. I'm rather fond of 'Saving Private Ryan' myself. :) I didn't like all the gore so much, but I liked the overall movie. ((nods)) I'm rather fond of the concept of det. cord (detonation cord) and sticky bombs. Not to mention explosions and flammable material. My dad has a tendency to explain these things to me during movies, especially when I ask about them. :)**

**Anyway, 'Dottore' is Italian for 'Doctor' or 'Doc'. I found 'La belle dame sans merci' in a dictionary, oddly enough. O.o Anyway, it means 'The beautiful lady without mercy.' :)**

**((claps happily)) Big boom:D**


	7. Onslaught: Chess

"So who's next?" Hot Rod asked, prodding Armonie gently as she leaned against the branches of the tree, reading the reports she was given. Giving him a stink look, she went back to her reading for a moment.

"Okay. Speed-wise, we'll catch up with Onslaught next." She said, pulling up his files. "I'm not sure about Vortex and Blast Off, however. They may spot us or we may run into them next."

"Well? Any ideas?" Groove asked, and Armonie glared down at him from her perch in the tree.

"I can't always think up ways to get them out." She grumbled but went back to looking over Onslaught's record. "Here we go. It says he likes to use his mind and plan."

"So?" Streetwise asked.

"So, now we can take him out." She said with a smirk. "He's a missile carrier, so he'll be smart about his load. After all, he doesn't want it to explode on him, even if it had a good amount of protection over it. All it takes is one good jostle and it's gone. I'm only the distraction, this time. You get to do all the work, but you can't show yourselves."

"So how are we going to do this if we can't show ourselves?" Blades asked, and Armonie smirked.

"Chess."

-

Onslaught believed that to plan something, you need to know as much information as you can. That was why he sent the Combaticons onward after sparing a village; he wanted to know more about the stupid flesh creatures as repulsive as the idea was.

Parking himself in an empty parking lot, he activated his hologram and wandered out into the streets. Finding an empty seat at a nearby café, he watched through his hologram everyday human life.

"Would you like to play some chess?" startled, he turned and found a human female holding a checkered board and a bag of oddly shaped pieces of plastic.

"Chess?" he echoed, caught unaware.

"You know. Chess?" amused, she reached into her bag and pulled out a pillar-shaped piece of pale white plastic with a small cross at the top.

Quickly, Onslaught raked his data processor for the right information. It was a primitive human strategy game. The rules were fairly simple, and he found himself intrigued about it. "I'll try my hand at it." he conceded. He wanted to see how a human thought!

The female sat down and pulling a lock of hair behind her ear, began to set the board up with quick, long-fingered hands. Smiling, she looked up and met his hologram's eyes. "You move first." She said, politely motioning toward the chess board.

It was interesting to watch, Onslaught mused, as the human thought and moved carefully. In five moves he could easily beat her, but he held back on purpose, drawing out the game as long as possible to observe the woman who had yet to reveal her name.

He was so focused on concentrating to not beating her and observing her that he didn't notice the danger to his queen until it was too late. "You should pay attention more." She said with a smile that oddly enough, wasn't mocking. It had an element that he couldn't quite pinpoint, not yet, at least.

Game after game they played, three hours at the same little café, concentrating hard on the board and not the passage of time. During an interlude between games, Onslaught noticed the little device in the woman's ear that trailed a thin cord over her shoulder. _It was probably one of those primitive music devices_, Onslaught grumbled to himself, returning to his scrutiny of the board.

"I had a much better set, once." The woman said conversationally as she set her side back up. "But there was an accident and it was destroyed." Her eyes – dark, dark brown eyes that Onslaught found strangely cold despite her cheery smiles and quips – were hard and direct but none of her true emotions were revealed. "My mother had given it to me for my birthday one year. It was beautiful."

"What did it look like?" Onslaught asked, intrigued.

"The base of the board was cedar, veneered prettily. The squares were sycamore and American walnut inlaid with gold and mother-of-pearl, and the pieces were Indian rosewood." As she listed the woods, Onslaught pictured them.

She was about to move when she paused, her hand hovering in midair. She tilted her head to the side as if thinking and her cold brown eyes had a hazy look. At last she nodded. "Okay." She straightened her head and pulled her hand back. "I'm sorry. I didn't catch your name."

Briefly, Onslaught wondered if she was as the humans said 'schizophrenic'. Nonetheless he gave her his name, ignoring the small part of his mind that warned him against it. "Onslaught."

The woman smiled, but it was nothing like the almost-pleasant-if-not-for-her-eyes smile she had given him earlier. It was a predatory smile that gleamed even in her cold eyes. "My name is Armonie Zibetto. Remember that little town a long way back? Where you found an Autobot and his charge? Where you destroyed his charge's home and killed her family?" she picked up a pawn and made her first move. "I am Autobot Hot Rod's charge. You killed my family. Prepare to die."

Onslaught scoffed. "What can you do? The me in front of you isn't even real."

Again that predatory gleam came back. "Oh, it's not me, Onslaught. It's my friends. See, I'm the distraction. As we speak and as we played a bit of chess, they were planting sticky bombs on your physical body." She smiled. "Have a nice day." standing, she stood and left.

In the abandoned parking lot across the rather small town, she heard and felt the half-muffled thump of a large explosion. Smiling to herself, she left, leaving the now-empty table with its chess pieces and board lying scattered about.

* * *

**. . . I should really stop watching 'The Princess Bride'.**

**"Hello. My name is Inigo Montoya. You killed my father. Prepare to die." . . .**


	8. Vortex: Helicopter Sniper

**:) When it comes to research on weapons and military vehicles, I'm happy. I don't know why. :P**

* * *

"We have to take out the fliers next." Armonie said, looking over at the three other files. "Blast Off will be hard to get, but I have a good feeling about Vortex."

"Uh, Army, they're fliers, and we're not. How do you expect us to get them?" Armonie made a face at Hot Rod.

"I don't like it much, but I think if Blades is willing he can take me up and I can get them down. Or at least Vortex, anyway. A shot to the tail rotor should get him out of the picture. Without the tail rotor, they just spin in circles." She added, pulling out her rifle and looking it over. "Not to mention lose altitude then crash and burn."

"Oh, no. I'm not letting you go up there with only Blades, offense intended." Hot Rod told Armonie firmly.

"_Hey!"_

"No. I'm not letting you go alone; I'm coming with you." Armonie regarded her adamant guardian with a raised eyebrow, thinking.

"You're a car," she pointed out.

"I'll scan a plane or something."

"Not a plane." Armonie corrected. "A helicopter."

-

"Are you okay?" Armonie called over the loud _thunk-thunk-thunk_ of Hot Rod's new rotors as he wobbled in the air.

"I'm fine." He called back tersely, wobbling as he tried to take off. "Are _you_ okay?"

Armonie laughed and patted the door. "Yes, for the fifteenth time, I'm fine. I'm strapped in, you big bozo."

"_Not so easy, eh, Hot Rod?"_ Blades called down and poking her head back out of the open hatch, Armonie fired a blank in his direction, causing him to swear and bank sharply to get out of her range of fire. Gaelic swear words followed the insulted medical helicopter as he fled but remained close enough for support.

Grumbling, Armonie unstrapped herself and walked unsteadily to the cockpit where she plopped herself down in the captain's seat. "Like this, Roddy." With that, she showed him which controls to manipulate and how. "Amoux took me to the base a lot, and the helicopter pilots seemed to take a liking to me, oddly enough." she admitted when he asked.

With that, she went back to her spot and strapped in, letting her legs hang out of the chopper to rest lightly on the landing skids, her rifle resting across her lap. She occupied herself with looking out at the horizon, imagining that she was with Romhild, Amalia, and Antonio flying over some exotic rainforest in a helicopter tour.

When that got too painful for her, she looked at the trees then at the skies and clouds that passed by as Hot Rod got used to flying as a helicopter. "Up for some target practice?" she called to Hot Rod who laughed.

"Heck yah! Let's get that little bugger." Chuckling at his enthusiasm – so much like Antonio's – Armonie hefted her rifle up and sighted on Blades. Squeezing the trigger in rapid succession, she watched smugly as the Protectobot yelled and screamed, dipping and diving as he realized he was being shot at. Hot Rod banked sharply as Armonie reloaded then began to shoot once more as Hot Rod strafed the white and red helicopter.

"All right, Roddy. I'm out!" Armonie called half an hour later to her guardian who groaned.

"But we were just getting started."

Armonie laughed as swearing, Blades gave them a wide berth. She patted the door once more. "We can get him later."

"Okay. But you have to admit; he _does_ look good in neon green and orange."

"_If you two are done having your fun, shall we get going?"_ Hot Spot called from the ground. Quickly, Armonie hefted her gun then shot her last paintball round, giving the blue fire truck a spot of paint between the optics.

Even from their height Armonie could see his scowl at her as Streetwise and Groove howled in laughter. Armonie pulled on her head set and flicked the visor on her helmet down. "_Now_ I'm ready. Guess I still had one left, Roddy."

-

Vortex still had a case of battle-fever from when they had destroyed that Autobot's fleshling's home a while back, and the fever continued to escalate as the Combaticons destroyed village after village and town after town. It irked Onslaught and Blast Off to no end, so much so that the space shuttle-now-stealth-bomber flew ahead to scout.

Laughing, he swung left and right so crazily that it almost appeared as if he were a drunken human. He flipped over and went back to swerving back and forth, not even registering the medical helicopter that pulled along side him until it moved until it was slightly ahead, the Autobot insignia boldly emblazoned in red on the white hull.

Immediately, he zeroed in on the Autobot and not thinking to call for backup – it was only _one Autobot_, after all – he gave chase.

That was when he noticed the Blackhawk UH-60 helicopter on this other side, the hatch open and a black-haired human leaning out. A braid of long black wire-like filaments flapped in the wind as it leaned out and hefted a primitive gun.

_Bamf-ping-bamf-ping-bamf-ping-bamf-ping-bamf-ping-bamf-ping!_

Roaring, Vortex spun at them, ignoring the other Autobot for the time being as well as the holes beneath his tail boom. The human lowered its weapon as the Blackhawk banked sharply and turned to come in for a neat strafe at a closer range.

As it did so, the human lifted her rifle and pulled off a few more shots, making more holes in his hull as the wind whipped its braid around. It didn't seem fazed as Vortex gave chase, calmly (or so it appeared to the Decepticon) reloading its gun.

The Blackhawk spun sharply and brought the human back into range for another round of shooting, nimbly dodging the rounds Vortex shot at them and coming alongside him once more to get a good strafe. This time the human fired faster, being much closer, and this time there was no sharp _ping_s as the slugs tore easily through the now-weaker hull.

_Bamfbamfbamfbamfbamfbamfbamfbamfbamfbamf!_

The squat but hot shells burned through the wiring and hull, tearing a hot line of pain toward his engine, transmission, and fuel tank. As the Blackhawk pulled away, going the opposite direction Vortex was heading, the human squeezed off a few more shots, this time hitting the tail rotor and tail boom with deadly accuracy.

Without the tail boom and rotor, Vortex spun madly in the air, losing altitude before exploding when the hot slugs shot his engine and got to his fuel tanks.

For a while, the medical helicopter and Blackhawk were knocked about by the blast, the Blackhawk tilting so that the closed hatch took the brunt of the hit and not the open one where Armonie was strapped in and exposed.

As the fiery remains of Vortex fell from the sky, Armonie flipped her visor up and breathed a sigh of relief.

"Looks like those lessons with Amoux paid off, eh?" she called shakily to Hot Rod who chuckled and agreed. If he heard the subtle shake in her voice, he said nothing about it, and if she heard the shake in his, likewise she said nothing. Patting his hatch, she chuckled. "Let's get out of the air and back on the ground. We need to plan on taking Blast Off out."


	9. Blast Off and Swindle: Ambush

Armonie sat cross-legged in the tree, leaning against the steady trunk as her companions sparred. Who would be next, Blast Off or Swindle? What would happen if they prepared for Blast Off and found Swindle or vice versa? What would the best tactic be?

What if… what if she got Hot Rod to keep the Blackhawk for a little while longer? The Protectobots sans Blades could patrol the roads, while Hot Rod, Blades, and she could patrol the skies. If they encountered Blast Off first, then they could radio help and lead the Combaticon off to battle; the ground patrol could shoot his unprotected underbelly. If the ground patrol encountered Swindle, then they could radio Hot Rod and Blades who flew overhead or nearby. They could bomb his open interior from the air.

Did they know about their comrades? That they were picked off one by one? Had they been alerted when Onslaught, Vortex, or Brawl didn't comm. back?

Tiredly, Armonie rubbed her temples. So this was what Amoux felt like when he planned moves for his squadron. Lord, she didn't envy him in the least. _I suppose it's a lot harder with planes instead of giant transforming alien robots from outer space with strong outer armor, _she thought wryly.

"Are they always this flamboyant?" she called down to First Aid who leaned against her tree. The medic tilted his head back to look up at the human and shrugged, causing her to yelp and cling to the branches and her reports, bags, and rifles as the big pine swayed and shook.

"Sorry. Not always. I guess they have what you would call 'battle fever'. I don't think the paintballs help much, either." He looked pointedly at the bulky bag that held the various colors and their magazines, causing Armonie to smirk. "What will you do afterward?"

The surprising question caught her off guard. "After what?" she asked, blinking stupidly down at the pacifist.

"After they've been terminated." She didn't need to ask who 'they' where. "What will you do?"

Thinking, Armonie leaned her head back against the trunk and looked up. "Go to America, I guess." She said at last. "Hot Rod said that the message he received was from somewhere in California. I guess I'll go with him to find the rest of them." she looked down at First Aid. "What about you?"

First Aid shrugged, but was careful to not jostle the tree too much this time. "My mentor Ratchet's in America. I think we'll travel around Europe for a bit then head out. It'd be nice to have some time just to ourselves, you know? Doing what we were made to do."

That stirred something in Armonie's memory. "Would you feel it if one of you die? I mean, you're part of a combiner team, aren't you? Would you feel it if, say, Blades was killed?"

First Aid looked uneasily up at her, but the Italian didn't notice. She was too busy staring at the horizon, lost in thought. "Why, are you thinking about shooting him or something?"

"No, no. I'm trying to figure it out. Would you?" Armonie said, flapping an impatient hand at him.

"Most likely, yes." First Aid said at last. "But I can't be sure. There's a good possibility."

"Then _why_ didn't the Combaticons notice?" she murmured to herself.

"Maybe it's because they have a different sense of camaraderie than we do." First Aid said at last, drawing her attention back down to him. "I'm no expert on Decepticon points of view, but I believe that if you're killed in battle, it's your fault. That you were too weak. Maybe they noticed but thought that the rest of their team was weak."

First Aid waited for a moment for her answer, but when she said nothing, he looked up at her to find her slowly reaching for her rifle loaded with sabot rounds. "What's the matter?"

"Shhh!" she shushed him impatiently, quickly and quietly cocking the rifle and aiming it at something in the clouds. "Comm. the others, and tell them Blast Off is above us." She whispered. "He's a stealth bomber now, apparently."

"How can you be sure?" First Aid asked quietly but did as he was bid.

"I can't, but I'm pretty sure. You're the one with the good optics; you tell me. He's behind that cloud over there." She pointed and obligingly, First Aid zoomed in. Indeed there was a stealth bomber there, but he was about to zoom out when he noticed the purple Decepticon insignia on the wing.

_Bamf!_

First Aid jumped at the close and sudden sound, looking up to find Armonie's rifle jerk off another shot at the hidden stealth bomber. She whirled and aimed her rifle downwards as a screamingly yellow Jeep burst into the clearing, a comparatively dark purple insignia displayed proudly on its hood.

As it passed beneath her tree, she opened fire, ignoring First Aid's yelp of alarm. Suddenly the blindingly bright Jeep wasn't a Jeep anymore; it was a giant robot that leapt at Hot Rod with a savage roar.

He took the hit and rolled, stopping and throwing Swindle into a tree before slowly getting up to face him properly.

The stealth bomber dove sharply and came up by First Aid and Armonie, transforming and landing with a _thud_ that shook the trees. Hurriedly, Armonie ejected the empty clip and reloaded the gun, just as Blast Off snatched her out of the tree, grabbing her around the waist, apparently thinking it was a regular gun in her hands.

Whatever he was about to say was drowned out in the furious tide of _bambambambambambambambambambam_'s released from Armonie's rifle and into the Decepticon's face. Roaring, Blast Off dropped her, clawing madly at his face and the orange and green paint sprayed across his face and optics, seeping into crevasses and crannies, effectively blinding the Decepticon.

Quickly, First Aid caught Armonie before she could hit the ground, handing her the other rifle she dropped as well as her bag of full magazines. Armonie traded her paintball gun for her sabot rifle, standing unsteadily in First Aid's hands and pulling off a shot.

Roaring, Blast Off whirled and charged at them, still half-blind. Yelping, First Aid dodged as Armonie unloaded the magazine of sabots into Blast Off's face. Quicker than First Aid thought her capable of, she had a new magazine in the slot and was firing off once more, letting loose more rounds into Blast Off's face.

Still blinded, he charged once more as Armonie loaded another magazine. She raised the rifle and sighted, but didn't fire. Blast Off stumbled and fell, twitching on the ground. She fired a sabot between slabs of armor and he fell still with a hiss and heavy _thunk_.

Medic and human turned to see what became of Swindle and found the mind-numbingly-bright yellow Jeep was dead, lying still and unmoving.

_Bam!_

"That's for having such bright paint." Armonie grumbled, flicking the safety on and slinging the gun on her back.


	10. Arrivederci

"So what will you do now?" Hot Shot asked and Armonie looked up at Hot Rod who looked back down at her.

"I don't know." She admitted. "I guess I'll pack my bags and head to America. Hot Rod was saying before the Combaticons attacked that he wanted to look for Optimus, so I guess I'll go with him. After all," she murmured, looking at her destroyed house. "I don't have anything else here."

"What about you guys? Are you coming or staying?"

For a moment the Protectobots looked at each other, silently conferring. "We'll stay for a little while, learn a few languages and life saving techniques, then head over." Hot Spot said at last. "Tell Optimus and the others we said 'hi', okay?"

Hot Rod smiled as Armonie walked into her destroyed home, finding a bag somewhere and beginning to find things to salvage. **"Thanks, guys. For everything. I think she'll be okay now."**

First Aid frowned slightly and clasped his now-enormous shoulder. **"Yes, she should be fine but when Smokescreen gets here, have him talk to her. Or if Optimus or the others have guardians, have her talk to them. She'll need the moral support."**

Hot Rod nodded seriously. **"Will do. Anything else?"**

Streetwise smiled, watching the human bustle around what was left of her home. Her children and spouse's body had been removed by the proper authorities and buried in a nearby graveyard. **"I may be crazy for suggesting this, but I do believe she has come to think of us as her family."**

Groove snorted, but saw the truth in the way she acted. **"All the more incentive to get to the rest of the Autobots intact; she's dealt with the loss of one family very well, but I don't think she'll handle it very well if something were to happen to us."**

"**Forge her a passport."** Blades suggested. **"Just in case. I think she can find somewhere to exchange her Euros for American dollars, and I don't think she'll have a hard time finding a job in America, but do keep an eye on her. Don't let her slip into depression."**

Hot Rod looked at Blades with a raised optic ridge. **"I thought you didn't like her."**

Blades snorted and looked away, neither accepting nor rejecting the observation. **"Regardless, it won't be good for her to become depressed."**

Hot Spot chuckled, whacking his brother on the back. **"We **_**knew**_** you'd come around, bro."**

Blades made a face and turned his back on them sulkily. **"How will you get there?"** Groove wanted to know.

Hot Rod shrugged**. "I think we'll drive or fly to England, and then I'll scan one of those big planes that can fly from Europe to America. From New York, we can drive or if she wants to, we can fly. Either way it'll take a while."**

Hot Spot nodded. **"We'll keep in touch."**

Hot Rod smirked. **"Stay together, now."**

Groove shuddered. **"I hate to think what would happen if she ever got angry at us."**

First Aid smiled and placed a hand on his brother's shoulder. **"I've come to understand her a bit. If you want to stay on her good graces, don't do anything stupid."**

Streetwise snorted good-naturedly. **"There's a common saying on Earth. It changes from context to context and language to language, but the basic gist of it is that males will never understand females. Not fully at least."**

Hot Spot smiled. **"That's certainly true. Nevertheless, I'll go with First Aid's advice."**

"Is this goodbye?" they all looked down to find Armonie standing in the middle of their little circle, her bags packed. She wore what they assumed was her father's old uniform.

Hot Spot and First Aid knelt down. "For now, yes." First Aid said as Armonie turned to look at them. "We'll stay for a little while and come after you guys. After all, I have to complete my training as a medic." He added with a smile.

"I'll miss you, Dottore." Armonie said quietly, hugging his face.

First Aid smiled. "I'll miss you too, Army, but it won't be for very long. Promise."

Blades, standing next to First Aid knelt as she walked over to him. "As much as I hate to admit it, I'll miss you, Elicottero."

Blades made a face at the nickname, but the others – including Armonie – knew he didn't hate it as much as he acted it. Groove was next, then Streetwise and lastly Hot Spot. Each of them got a hug before she backed up to stand near Hot Rod.

As she had said good-bye to Hot Spot, her voice had cracked, and now they could see she was fighting back sorrow. "If I find you guys did something stupid I'm personally gonna come back and kick your asses." She told them, trying to regain her usual grumpy-mother attitude

Hot Spot smiled, straightening. "We'll keep that in mind, Army." With a nod to the other Protectobots, they transformed and drove away without another word.

"Shall we go, then?" Hot Rod asked, transforming and opening his hatch. If he noticed the slight waver to her pursed lips, he said nothing as she packed her bags and went to sit in the cockpit.

"Farewell, mi Italia. Amalia, Romhild, Antonio." She whispered to herself, watching first the house then the landscape shrink as Hot Rod gained altitude. She looked forward to the horizon. "Benaccetto mi nuovo casa. Mi nuovo famiglia."

* * *

**'dottore' - doctor, doc  
'elicottero' - helicopter  
'mi Italia' - my Italy  
'benaccetto mi nuovo casa. Mi nuovo famiglia' - welcome my new home. my new family.**

**There is a high chance that the above sentences are grammatically incorrect; I only looked them up word by word in an English-Italian dictionary, so don't try to say any of this to someone who speaks Italian. At best they'll be like huh?! O.o**

**Whooo. ((weak chear)) finished. FINALLY! Now I can get to work on 'Alone Again'.**


End file.
